


With Metal on our Tongues

by TheXGrayXLady



Category: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Dark fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheXGrayXLady/pseuds/TheXGrayXLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and Silver in our Lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Metal on our Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> The Wonderland fandom knows me primarily for writing fluffy Cylice fics. in other fandoms, I'm more typically known for writing things that rip out people's hearts before I dance upon them in my stilettos. If it's any consolation, going all out with villain awfulness and the effects of silver on a genie was less fun than usual for me.

Some days were better than others. Constant exposure to silver meant building up a tolerance, yet it would never truly nullify the effects. Being a genie meant that Cyrus knew better than most how to make the best of captivity, but after all his time out of the bottle, he wasn’t sure that he could ever be comfortable in a cage again, even if it wasn’t made of silver.

If he slept in certain positions, or accidentally leaned on the bars for too long, he would come away with burns. The guards would rather leave food and water within his reach rather than risk opening the cage so that was another ordeal. And then the guards started putting silver filings in the water. It appeared that Jafar sought to weaken him, to put Cyrus enough pain so that he would have no choice but to tell him exactly what Alice would wish for and what it would take to make her do it.

He hadn’t broken yet. He’d found a spot somewhere between dehydration and silver poisoning that he found bearable. He would let the filings settle to the bottom of the cup if he did drink so as to minimize the damage. The water still burned his mouth and throat more than any alcohol ever could. For a while, he’d even swapped water with the old man. In those few days, his head felt clearer than it had in months. Then Jafar caught on. The next time they swapped, there was iron in the cup.

If silver was poison, iron was death. His mouth bled the moment the water touched his lips and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor of the cage, semi-conscious and covered in his own bloody vomit. He barely noticed. The metal was in his blood and it burned with every heartbeat, leaving him in too much pain to even cry out.

The guards took pity on him a few hours later, took him out of the cage, got him cleaned up. They didn’t need to worry about him escaping. It wasn’t as though he could run away. He couldn’t even stand. They were less vigilant of him after that. He wasn’t a powerful genie to them anymore, with magic every bit as terrifying as their master’s. Now, he was a weak, pathetic prisoner. He could live with their pity and scorn.

It took weeks for him to get his strength back after that. The still poisoned water did nothing to help. The closest thing to a comfort Cyrus had was the thought that if Jafar was still doing this, Alice was safe. That was all that mattered now. Jafar couldn’t afford to kill him or hurt him too badly. Alice didn’t have that luxury. He dreaded the thought of seeing her here. He couldn’t live with the thought that she could be captured and tortured on his account. He didn’t even want her to try to rescue him. It would be too dangerous.

Then again, danger seemed to draw Alice like a moth to flame. So he was less than surprised to see the origami bird flying back to him, with the message, “I’m coming for you.” It was at the same time the best and worst thing he could have hoped for. He would give anything to see her one more time, to hear her voice again, and here, his hope to be reunited with her dwindled a little with every day. 

As grim as the thought was, it gave him renewed desire to escape. Even with the silver building up in his blood and clouding his mind, he could still think of something to get him out of here. Anything to have even a little more time with her. Anything to be reunited anywhere but here. The guards pitied him, thought him no threat, getting the wishbone was of no difficulty. The only problem was time. For once, it was not on his side.

Every now and then, he would cough and draw his hand away from his mouth splattered with golden ichor. Some days, he could do little more than lie there, shaking and unable to focus on anything for more than a few moments. Cyrus needed to leave and soon. The bad days were far outnumbering the good now. He considered himself lucky if he could work at the floor of the cage, let alone go through with an escape. He would manage though. He’d experienced true freedom, even if just for a short while. He could live with no less. 

When at last the day came, he rejoiced at the first few moments he had, in what seemed like forever, that were untainted by the blight of captivity. It was enough to keep him going. Even when, at the end of the day, he still tasted blood in his mouth, he could still find the strength to run from the cage. At least, until he came to the edge of the isle in the clouds, cornered by the Red Queen.

Then he had to borrow some of Alice’s wonderful, magical, oftentimes completely irrational, bravery and jump. He knew the fall wouldn’t kill him. It would by no means do him any favors, but it took more than that to kill a genie. Going back to the cage though, that was another matter. Even without the silver, he didn’t think he would live much longer if he went back to the cage. Even the thought was enough to set his heart beating erratically and make his breath come in ragged, frantic gasps. There was only one thing he could do

The impact knocked the breath right out of him and he lay there dazed before everything faded to black. It could have been moments, it could have been hours, until he regained consciousness. It hurt to breath, the world swam as he staggered to his feet, and he could already feel developing bruises covering all of his body. It was still better than that prison.

He limped off towards the forest to plan his next move. The Outlands would be the best choice, he was supposed to meet up with Alice there if they were ever separated, but he almost questioned if he could make it before the silver got to him. If he made it, he could rest and recuperate for a bit. Yet every heartbeat was a reminder that his life was in a broken hourglass and with every turn, a little more sand ran out.

It was almost a relief when he was caught again. At least the Red Queen wouldn’t take him back to Jafar. She had him, she had the bottle, there was no reason for her to do so. He would give just short of anything to escape again, but hanging in the vines for hours had done him no good. He could barely keep focused on anything for more than a few minutes, every time the cart hit a bump in the road, he had to bite back a gasp, yet it was still easier than walking and at least now he was headed in the right direction.

Cyrus tried to make small talk with her, get a sense of what she was like, but it was hard. He knew she was hiding something. He would find out what later. When they got out of Wonderland. When talking didn’t hurt. The further they went, the more grateful he was that she needed to escape just as badly as he did. He was beginning to realize that he wouldn’t have made it to the Outlands. He didn’t trust her exactly, yet it was his only chance to see Alice again.

When they finally left the wagon, she offered him her arm for support. He probably needed it, yet he didn’t take it. All he could think of was that spot of wasteland just to the right of the big rock. He just had to get home and everything would be alright. Then he heard something he thought he would never hear again.

“Cyrus!” Alice’s voice was like music. It was all he ever wanted to hear.

“Alice!” She looked like a dream, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and rushing towards him. For the first time in days, he ran. He couldn’t wait one moment to be with her again. His vision was starting to blur, but she was clear.

In her arms, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt safe. For just a few moments, he felt as though everything was going to be okay. He was with Alice, so close to their safe haven, everything had to be alright. And in that little fragment of time, standing in the field, holding each other, just being together, everything was.

Then his legs gave out beneath him. Alice held him as he sank slowly to the ground.

“Cyrus! Cyrus stay with me!” she said, putting a hand to his cheek. “Will, don’t just stand there, go get Mrs. Rabbit, he needs…”

“Alice,” he rasped. “She can’t help…silver…”

“Then something else. I have one wish left…” It didn’t matter what she wished for, going back to the bottle would kill him.

“No…please…Alice, you promised…” She looked so wonderful right now, felt so warm and safe, like home, he didn’t want to go. It wasn’t fair, he’d had so many centuries alone yet only a few years with Alice.

“But…" She sighed, she knew just as well as him that it would not end well. "I promised." Her sad smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I had so many stories to tell you.” She wiped blood away from his mouth. He’d grown accustomed to the taste, no longer noticed.

“I’m sorry I can’t hear them” he said, resting his head against her arm. “I’m sorry I made such a mess of things. I’m sorry we’re not go…”

“Don’t be sorry Cyrus,” she said. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He was faintly aware of The Red Queen and Will shouting about something, he could make out the word, “bottle,” and that was about it. He didn’t really care though. It felt as if his whole world was right here with Alice.

“You're everything I could ever wish for,” he said, reaching up to caress her cheek. She placed her hand atop his, soft and gentle as a feather, yet still strong and reassuring. His hand was trembling, hers was steady. "A thousand lifetimes couldn't compare to the time I've spent with you."

“I just wi..." she cut herself off midword, correcting her word choice. "If only we had a little more time. This can't be the end. We only just found each other again..."

Even her face was starting to go fuzzy now. He couldn't help but stare at the flickering red glow of her pendant. He almost couldn't believe she'd kept it. He wished they'd had a chance to get married. He wanted to spend ten thousand lifetimes with her, but would have to be content with these few moments.

Through a fog, he heard Will saying, "Like hell this is it for you two. We've still got the bottle and I was promised a wish. You're not getting away from each other that easy," but it didn't register. What he really heard was the frantic beating of his heart, a clock running out, and Alice talking to him in the growing darkness. The next thing he knew was her lips brushing against his, gentle, chapped and rough from weeks spent living outside, as perfect as he remembered, and then nothing.

X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X

There were voices. A bit muffled, but definitely voices. So quiet he almost couldn't hear a word they were saying.

"I told you." This voice was feminine, somehow familiar. "People will do crazy things when they're in love. Or for a friend."

"Yes, how very touching, now hand it over." His eyes shot open when he realized who the voice belonged to. This couldn't be happening...no. Anyone but him. Anywhere but here again. He almost couldn't believe Will had done something so stupid as to use that wish. Even for a selfless reason. He was less surprised that the bottle wound up back with Jafar.

He felt a familiar tug and clutched at anything he could to stay in the bottle, yet it was futile. He was dragged from his bottle in a puff of smoke before his new master. He bowed his head, kept his eyes to the ground, ignored his brother genies beside him, and felt absolutely nothing as he recited the familiar words, "Master mine, my will is thine."


End file.
